OUT OF CONTROL

So much has happened in the last week or so that I've hit 'overload' more than a few times.  Thank my higher power (and yours, just in case we have the same one) that CB is on the way here from L.A. tomorrow morning; she's doing the 911 thang and helping me through this hot mess aka home rehab. 

She moved heaven and earth aka her jam-packed schedule so she could be here this week, instead of two weeks from now. I said, with a wail in my voice the other day, "If only you were here now..." and, amazing best friend that she is, CB will be at my side...taking over, geting this house in order, ship-shaping the troops, and creating (and maintaining) the schedule calendar so things happen, when they are supposed to happen..or sooner.

This has been a critical week. Crates and crates of kitchen cabinets arrived last week.  I wasn't told by the delivery men until they rang my doorbell that, for insurance reasons, thy would not bring the boxes inside the house. They would drop 'em at the door or bring them into a garage, but that's it. If Handyman hadn't been there...and with his dolly...I would still be sitting outside of a rapidly bowing porch, day after day, with a toilet plunger masquerading as a shotgun, guarding the cardboard boxes. 

Thankfully, Handyman spoke his charming fluent Spanish and ingratiated himself into their hearts and got them to help move the bigger boxes into the house (with his help). He moved the rest himself with the dolly into the living room. 

For my part, I paced and sweated on his behalf and made a pitcher of iced tea. I know my limitations. I, uh, had just gone to the gym earlier that day, anyway; I was all about the Feng Shui. I had to make sure those 108 cardboard boxes were in JUST the right place for the friggin' WEEK it would take before the cabinet installers are here (this Wednesday through Friday).

Kitchen appliances are arriving this weekend. Gone are the Harvest Gold stove, the Avocado Green refrigerator and ancient, probably radiation-emitting microwave circa 1968 from Sears; I'm only slightly exaggerating. I'm still using the Black & Decker under-cabinet coffeemaker that Mom bought in '83...not kidding, she saved everything, including the sales ticket. After it leaves here post-renovation, it's heading to The Smithsonian. (Me, not long after.)

In prepping for the new-fangled kitchen appliances (with three-prong cords!), I accidentally, but most thankfully before the house might have burned down or some such imagined disaster, discovered that the a/c company improperly installed an electric box that wasn't grounded or bonded. Not only is it against code, it could have fried me and burned the house down. Of course, I'm now in a tussle with the company about that while, at the same time, I've had to bring in an electrical contractor to save the day (at $$, of course).  

I feel like I've been suckerpunched...I've lost a sizable amount of money on the bad electrical work, and now I have to spend double that to fix it...plus, prep this old place for new-fangled appliances. My mom barely used one wall a/c, the TV and a lamp on at the same time.  Me, you know I'm gonna have on the computer, four TV, eighteen lights, the microwave, the washer and dryer, four clocks all at once...so I gotta bring the house up to date.

Handyman & ViceGrip have been working uber-hard and (it seems) round the clock to keep on schedule...laying the tile (that's all that's getting laid, alas), grouting, plastering the walls, you name it...the last of the grout is going on tonight and the kitchen drywall will be covered with Magic Marker slashes with diagrams of the cabinets and about-to-arrive appliances so the electricians have caveman-like drawings to guide them at 8AM tomorrow.  And that means, I have to get up at 7:45AM...that's really the worst part of it.

Despite the housebound drama ("I Am a Shut-In!"), I did have escape this weekend.  MS invited me for an encore at The Art Institute to take the Hopper exhibit.  As I've posted earlier, Edward Hopper is my fave American artist (save for CB), and I savored his work on my last jaunt there with MS; however, there is so much to see (and, frankly, MS and I talk so much) that we had the urge, the drive, the need, to see more than the six paintings (kidding!) we saw the first time. The second visit was as powerful as the first, if not more so, and I came away more of a Hopper man than I had even been before...I am now compelled to learn more about the man who creates such moody, introspective, haunting images of solitary, isolated, lonely, perhaps tragic people...or, sunny landscapes which still seem...morose and foreboding. I said to MS during our tour, I bet he is the kind of guy who jumps out of Japanese clown cars and wears a Whoopie cushion...he must be a life-of-the-party guy who spills his sadness and feelings of separateness into his work...now, am I talking about him or myself...?

My elderly neighbors, Catherine and her husband, invited me to their nearby Lutheran church for Mass. It was "Bring a Heathen" -- actually, "Bring a Friend" -- to Church Day, and so they invited me and I was tickled that they asked.  I had never been to a Lutheran service, and I really enjoyed it. I loved the fact that the pastor was married and had a wife and three kids...they were all in the front row, uh, pew, and beamed at Pastor Daddy. It was wonderful to see the connection of church, family and members of the church together. 85-year old hubby-to-Catherine slammed his fist on the table after service during get-acquainted-breakfast after, and said, "We had a lady Pastor and she was a pistol -- but she died in her sleep, and that was that."  As a Catholic, it was wonderful to see a Pastor with a family and so connected with his congregation and his family together; it would be spectacular, IMO, if the Catholic Church followed suit.

This from a staunchly Catholic family (I'm reformed) with an uncle who is a practicing priest and a deceased great uncle who reigned as a cardinal. My uncle had a female "housekeeper" who traveled with him, including holidays at our house, when I was a kid, and when the first one died, my uncle got himself a younger babe, a gal who cooked, cleaned and...whatever...he was a licensed pilot in the air, a hellion on Earth with his souped-up Cadillac that never seemed to go less than 80 MPH...

End of Catholic Church rant...

Phase II...at warp speed...starts tomorrow with CB's arrival...hang on - !